Harry Potter and the Smegheads
by Lyrith
Summary: A Red DwarfHarry Potter crossover, with slash, and some mature themes. Lighthearted, entertaining, and in short portions.
1. HippityHop!

I do not own Red Dwarf, or Harry Potter, blah blah blah. Don't sue me, you'll get nada. 'Cause that's what I have.

"So, you had something to show us then, Hol?" asked Lister, throwing himself into a chair. He didn't spill even a drop of his beer.

Rimmer threw a condescending glance at him. "Lister, do you mind terribly NOT ashing on the instrumentation?"

Lister flicked his cigarette at the console.

"If I may," interjected Holly with a hint of pride, "direct your attention to the center of the room?" The assembled crew dutifully complied, directing their attention towards a very familiar box.

Even Cat grasped this item. "Say, isn't this the Holly Hop Drive?"

Holly smirked. "No, this is the Holly Hip-Hop Drive – it's got a lot more funk."

"Well," Rimmer began, "it's plain to see that there are many aspects to be considered – the last time we tried something like this, the risks weighed against the benef- hey, Lister, what do you think you're doi-" Lister pushed the button.

"Smeghead!" cursed Rimmer. "We could've died! As it is, we don't know where the smeg we are-"

"Earth," cut in Lister, pointing.

"What?" the other man sputtered.

Okay, this is my first fic, so the chapters will be short, at least at first. Crossover comes in the next chapter. Please review!


	2. Into The Sunset

Harry sailed into the sunset-literally. He was heading west through the darkening sky on his broom. The bottle of firewhiskey in his coat was half empty, but he'd had plenty at the pub that night.

"How can he leave me?" muttered Harry with a fresh set of tears stinging his eyes. "Why? For _him_? If it was for _him_, I'll bloody kill him." _No you won't. You won't hurt anyone. You'll just become twice as bitter towards the both of them._ Deep down, Harry hoped that he had been left for somebody else. Because if he'd been left for another guy, it meant the faults didn't lie with Harry. It gave Harry something to shoot for. He could change to be more like his replacement. He would have Draco back again.

The night had come quickly, and the air had gotten cold. Harry's fingers were getting numb. "Mmm, what's a good spell for warmth? Damn, I'm drunk. Can't remember anything." His hands were frozen, and he had difficulty keeping a firm grasp on the broomstick. It might have made his flying a little shaky.

A sudden burst of lights all around him nearly forced him off of his broom. Harry winced as a voice boomed in his ears, "Please pull your broomstick into the Hoverzone. Please pull off to the right."

What? What's a hoverzone? Harry followed a track of big red arrows to the right. Where they ended, his broomstick froze in place. He could feel ground beneath his toes, though when he looked downward all he saw was the terrain miles below.

"Dismount from you broom, please," came a normal voice. A young male in blue robes pulled up beside him and stepped off of his broom, standing on nothing visible.

Harry got off his broom, stumbling a little.

"Wand, please," said the unknown wizard. His attractive features, angular but strong, were free of any room for argument. His brown hair matched his eyes, and was cut relatively short, but not right against the head. However, his expression left no room for Harry to consider these matters.

Harry eyed the young man. In his right hand, he held a footlong wand made of dark wood, pointed at Harry. His other hand was open, and the blue-clothed wizard shook it to emphasize his impatience. Harry handed over his wand.

"No dangerous objects," said the wizard, examining a sphere on his belt. "Okay, then. Harry Potter, is it?"

"Yes," Harry agreed, mostly sure of the fact. His head was fuzzy, spinning.

"Still a student at Hogwarts?" There was a pause, and Harry nodded. "Okay, Mr. Potter. What have you been doing tonight?"

"Just went out for butterbeer." Harry blinked a few times.

The other man waited without comment, locking his gaze on Harry.

"And maybe a shot or two of firewhiskey."

The wizatd pulled out a strip of parchment. "Please blow on this," he said in his no-nonsense tone.

Harry took in a deep breath and blew, nearly ripping the paper from his fingers.

The paper turned a bright orange-red. "Eeych! Damn, did you drink a river of the stuff? Brush your teeth once in a while. Hope you don't kiss your mother with that mouth!"

_I used to kiss my boyfriend. Damn you, Draco_. "Um…" Harry began, fumbling for an explanation or excuse.

Harry found himself magically bound at the hands, and then to the wizard's broom. "What? Is? Happening?"

The wizard mounted the broom in front of him. He took hold of Harry's broom with his left hand. "You're being taken in for FIB-flying while intoxicated or bespelled. I'm sure they'll take you back to Hogwarts after you're booked. I'd imagine you'll be in a bit of trouble there. Sorry, but it's the policy for students and underage wizards-they'll be informed. You won't get your broom back without going to court, though." And with that, they took off, Apparated after about ten feet, and circled an unfamiliar building. _Jail_, supposed Harry. It's really been a bloody nasty day.

Yes, I didn't post forever. So here's your first glimpse of the HP side of things. They should come together soon, depending on how long each chapter is. My theory is they'll get longer as we go on.


	3. Quickly Found

**AN: Well, I've been going through pure chaos, but I never abandon a tale. So, we jump back in, flashing this time to the Red Dwarf crew. I still don't hold any rights to Harry Potter or Red Dwarf. Sigh. Maybe by the next chapter. **

"Earth?" Rimmer repeated, clearly dumbfounded. Then, "Well done, Holly. I never doubted you, not for a moment. I thought this time the plan was sound."

"Well, don't get all excited yet," Lister said, checking something. "It seems a little off. Holly, can you establish-"

"Yes, can you establish communications?" Rimmer interupted.

"No, I can't," said Holly simply.

Rimmer raised an eyebrow. "And why is that, Holly?"

"It seems this is not the Earth of our time. It's late 20th century Earth."

"What?" Rimmer sputtered.

"Well," Holly explained, "We did hop through space. But, we also hipped. Through time."

"Well, that's just wonderful," Rimmer snapped. "Can we go back?"

"No," said Holly. "It's broken."

Lister sighed, and sat down heavily. "What else is new?" He chewed on a fingernail. "Hang on, now. Perhaps we don't need to go back just yet. Maybe we can enjoy a little time here. Home."

Cat stepped forward. "I have only one question. Is there fish here?"

"Yes, you imbecile, there's fish," Rimmer snapped.

"I have only two questions. Is there women?"

"Of course there's women," Lister told him.

"Then I vote, we stay!" yelled Cat excitedly.

"We weren't taking a vote," said Rimmer in an aggrieved tone.

Lister shrugged. "Well, we can't go back right now, can we?" He looked around expectantly. "But I don't see how we can get down there, without being noticed."

"We can't stay here without being noticed either," Holly pointed out, his computerized head tilting to one side. "We've got to do something, and I suggest we do it quickly. The technoglogical state of Earth in this time means it won't be long before we're discovered. Most likely by some unpleasant and uptight army with too much money on its hands."

Just then, they heard a clattering thump from one of the cabinets. It swung open and a gray and flowy ball rolled out. It straightened itself into a tall, gangly man with graying chestnut hair and thick spectacles. "My, then the Floo network couldn't quite be adapted to get here," he said in a thick Scottish accent. He dusted off the gray and flowy things, which looked like robes, and stared around at all of them. They all stared back, in turn.

"Who the smeg are you?" demanded Rimmer in that arrogant and pompous manner of his.

The man looked thoughtfully at Cat. "I'm sorry-it's been awhile since I've taken any courses in magical species. What exactly are you?"

Cat straightened and looked back at him. "What I am, is _hungry!_"

"He's a cat," Lister said, "and for once I'm thinkin' like Bonehead over here. Who are you?"

The man gave Cat one more bewildered glance, one that said he'd get back to him, and looked to Lister. "I'm sorry, mate. My name is Antonus MacLaghlan, and I'm here representing the ministry. Now, we admit that someone, or, rather, several someones, of your apparent talents must be capable of quite a bit, but to get this thing out here, in space-functioning and safe-well, it's just far too dangerous. This is exactly the sort of thing the Muggles notice. I'm afraid you'll have to give it up. There may even be fines involved. Now, I remember my astronomy classes. Those days were more than enough to tempt me into this sort of enterprise. But, if you must see space from somewhere other than through a telescope on top of a tower-well, it can be a bit costly, but you just have to go through the proper channels. We can't just have every wizard or witch popping off into the upper atmosphere whenever they feel like it!" He laughed nervously. "So, you understand, we don't really have a choice. Now, your names . . ." Antonus pulled a parchment out of his robes. "David Lister, and Arnold Rimmer. Oh-it says here-you're deceased, Mr. Rimmer? You know, I don't recall . . . are you registered with any of the ghost organizations?"

Rimmer stared openmouthed at the man, who was fumbling with several other parchments. "What ghost organization?"

"Oh, any of them," he mumbled, frowning at what was apparently a particularly vexing parchment. "I'm not showing you here either, Mr. Lister. Just give me a moment, and I'll get it sorted . . ."

"Hang on a moment," Rimmer interupted. "Do you see an 'H' on my forehead? I was dead, but I'm not anymore."

The strange man's head shot up, and he peered closely at Rimmer. He dropped several of his papers in bewilderment. "Not dead anymore? You don't say . . . Why, so you aren't dead! My, my! I'd heard about this sort of work going on, but I really didn't think they'd made that many advancements. Who was it, anyway? Dr. Tiberius? I'd heard such a thing, yet his last paper wasn't in the least bit suggestive of a cure for death in the near future! You must tell me everything! Oh, later, though," he added, bending over to gather his parchments. "For now, I've got to find out where your registrations are. Did you both attend Hogwarts? Shouldn't be that difficult if you did."

"What? What's a bloody Hogwarts? Oh, you mean that little goblin from the old movie? No, his name was Hoggle. Though the David Bowie character called him Hogwart once. And what does that have to do with anything?" Lister lit a cigarette.

The man looked at Lister, the source of the comment. "You didn't go to school at Hogwarts? Where'd you go to school, then?"

"Nowhere, really," Lister admitted.

"Didn't go to wizarding school? You're _untrained wizards_?" He stared back and forth between them in shock.

"What are you talking about? Is this some sort of cult? I attended a very fine series of academies throughout my childhood. My parents didn't go for any of that new-age sort of nonsense. A real education, that's what I received. Not dancing naked around a Beltane fire, waving large sticks of wood and chanting at passers-by." Rimmer straightened himself proudly and gave Antonus a defiant stare.

The man threw up his hands in frustration, splattering the ceiling with an overdipped quill. "This is a disaster! Powerful _and_ untrained wizards!"

Holly cut in, "Dave, I think there's a few things in my memory banks relevant to your situation. I'm still checking on Rimmer."

Antonus nodded to Holly. "So, we have," he began, scribbling on yet another scrap of parchment, "Two untrained wizards, one possibly involved in black-market body trading, one talking photograph, normal by all appearances, one unidentified magical creature, and a fourth being who may be a strange magical species, or a failed and unregistered Animagus. Metal craft still visible to Muggles. Request immediate assistance." He waved a wand at the parchment, which immediately disappered.

"We're not wizards at all," objected Lister. "We're not magical. Hol, I didn't think 20th century Earth was so primitive."

"Dave, that's what I need to talk to you about. They aren't primitive. Your-"

But at this moment, he was cut off by the arrival of four more figures. Two women and two men appeared in puffs of smoke. They were extremely well-kempt, and dressed in severe black robes with blue trim. Without any further warning, they raised their wand in unison, each pointing of one of the Red Dwarf crew members, who all found themselves unable to move.

"Don't worry too much," called Antonus just before they found themselves wrenched through nothingness, "it's only likely a slight questioning!"


	4. In the Box

Disclaimer can be viewed in previous chapters. AN: Once again, my life is busy and complicated, so I took a long time to update. For those of you reading-I am NOT abandoning this story, even though there are huge gaps in betwen my updates. Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers! Keep reviewing,; keep reading!

Harry sat glumly upon the hard wooden bench, staring at the only decoration in the room. It was a portrait of a very humorless witch. Her face was all thick angles and delicate lines, formed from years of drawn lips and angry creasing of the brow. She surveyed the room with critical glances every last occupant with a heavy distrust and definite disapproval. Every so often she would clear her throat, usually whenever someone made eye contact or moved suddenly.

To Harry's left was a very depressed looking young goblin who sighed repeatedly. Harry thought she was making little choking sounds, almost like hiccoughing, but more stifled. He politely ignored the noises.

Without further warning, the goblin burst into tears.

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, jumping off of the bench. "You startled me . . ."

The goblin wiped her tears away, though they only slowed. "I'm sorry. I simply can't believe this is happening to me. Oh, what will my father say?" She looked at Harry as though she expected a sympathetic response.

Harry thought he might be too drunk to deal with other people's problems. On the other hand, it was a distraction, at least. "Um . . .why are you here?"

"Embezzlement. I'm an accountant at Gringott's. I didn't do it, just so you know," she added fiercely, glaring at him as though daring him to deny it.

"Oh. Oh, yes. Of course not." _What's the appropriate reaction to that?_ "Well, I'm sure it will all work out." _Can't really say anything else_. Harry tried to pace, but tripped over his own legs, landing hard on the stone floor. _Okay . . .so no pacing_. He hauled himself back onto the bench.

The woman in the portrait gave him a cold stare. "Cease your lawless horseplay at once!" she snapped. "There are far more severe holding options, and unless you want to find yourself in a full body bind with a silencing charm, I recommend you _sit quietly_ and _make no noise_! It should be as if you are not even there!" With an austere sniff, she settled herself into an intimidating pose.

Fuzzy though his brain was, he still remembered very similar phrasing from the Dursleys a few years previous. That had been another bad night. Her words struck a nerve with him.

He faced the portrait. "Sit quietly. Make no noise. Kiss my fucking ass and love it," he mimicked in a whiny, singsong tone. Wisdom was beyond Harry at this particular moment in time.

The witch in the portrait gathered herself without fury. Before she could call for anyone, she was interrupted by the heavy clatter of footsteps from down the hall. Four wizards in black and blue robes aided a motley quartet down the passage and into the cell.

The newcomers looked like they'd been hit with a barrage of mind-hindering charms and curses. Their faces were blank in a resigned sort of way; their expressions were accented only by touches of bewilderment and frustration. One of the uniformed wizards tossed a pack of cigarettes to the one with the dreadlocks before he closed the cell again.

The man stared at the cigarettes for a moment, desire and hope written on his face. Then he looked up angrily and flipped around to face the door. "Oh, that's just smegging wonderful! Think you're funny, do you? Tease a man with cigarettes and no way to light one?" The man looked down at the smokes. "Never heard of PipePow! cigarettes anyhow." He threw up his hands, still clutching the pack.

Harry tried to think through the firewhiskey. "Oh, yes!" he said out loud. The man looked at him. "Sorry, mate. I just-I wanted-here, they're-" Harry swayed a little as he stood again. He carefully made his way across the cell to the man. Harry reached out for the cigarettes, misjudged the distance and the presence of gravity, and headed towards the floor again.

The dreadlocked stranger caught him just in time. "Had a few tonight, mate?" he asked as he straightened and steadied Harry. "I envy you. Really wish I'd grabbed a drink earlier."

Harry motioned for the PipePow!'s, being prudent with his movements. The man placed the smokes in Harry's hand. "These are pretty neat," Harry explained as he pulled one out of the pack. Harry put the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled.

The man looked impressed when the cigarette lit itself. He took them back, pulled on out, and took a drag. He nodded, smiling beatifically. "Oh, yes . . ."

"Do you mind if I smoke this?" Harry asked. "I mean, since I showed you how. They didn't give me cigarettes." The stranger waved his hand in agreement.

"I'm Harry," said Harry, pleased with himself for getting it right on the first try.

"Dave Lister. Lister's fine," he replied, taking Harry's hand and shaking it. "The blocky one is Kryten, the other guy is Rimmer, and Cat is-well, the cat."

Harry squinted at Cat. He laughed as he remembered Hermione's bad experience with the Polyjuice Potion. The other man -Rimmer- had taken a seat on the bench and was sitting with arms crossed. He looked pissed. Harry decided not to talk to him just yet.

"Why are you here?" he inquired of Lister.

Lister shrugged. "I'm lost on that one. Dunno what happened, or what's going on-and you don't even want to know how we got to here. I figure this isn't likely to be any weirder than everything else I've seen." He took a long drag off of the cigaratte. "But I could be _way_ off."


	5. Plans and Plots

Insert disclaimer here. AN: Another update! Sorry bout the lack of normal characters inthis, but this chapter is necessary for foreshadowing and transistion. Should still be an enjoyable read! Review, please.

Jack Grunky shook his head as Antonus handed him the files he'd dug up on Arnold Rimmer and Dave Lister. "I knew it, Antonus. I knew this would all get too complicated, when the Muggles started hopping about the galaxy."

Antonus nodded, but the Hogwarts graduate had the old Ravenclaw spark in his eyes. "Of course . . . terribly inconvenient . . .messy . . ."

Jack slammed his fist on the table. "Messy, indeed! As if the ministry could be expected to contact those off planet! I don't know what they use in the future. Owls? Owls with fancy little headgear to keep their feathery little heads from exploding in SPACE? Hamprowder never discloses these things to me, you know."

Galius Hamprowder was a representative for the Department for the Regulation of Time Travel. This Department was an odd sort of entity by nature. Anyone who joined could be called upon to travel forward or back for centuries, even millenia, representing the Ministry's interests across time. Members usually specialized in matters concerning the time of there birth and life, working as long as their physical bodies held up. Time travel did not lengthen one's life. In fact, if not careful, one could end up dying ten years sooner than expected. Of course, they wouldn't be ten years younger. Sketchy thing, time travel. Jack did not like "iffy" subjects like time, or disorganized behaviors. Which is why the case of Dave Lister drove him positively insane.

Further threatening his sanity was the lack of information he had to work with. Hamprowder was constantly apologetic, of course, but the end resault was the same. He could not disclose too much about the future, for reasons of "holding reality fast." So Jack always ended up stumbling about wherever the Department of Time Travel was concerned. He was half blind and deaf, and expected to make decisions and handle messes? Hamprowder was a wizard from _their_ time, and so had been assigned to the case.

"Well," Hamprowder had explained, "I can't take them back to their own time, because they already exist there, you see. That's sloppy and risky. So they'll have to stay here. Can't have two Dave Listers or Arnold Rimmers at once. Stretches things about. And Merlin help us if they ever should meet . . . but of course we can't put them back where they left off untrained. Bad form. And, with all the time travel involved, we are far too hesitant to take away their magic. Sorry, Jack, but it looks like this is your responsibility." And with that, Hamprowder had dropped the limited and edited files on his desk, and fizzled out of existence for the next few centuries, or at least the next few weeks.

"Well," Antonus began hesitantly, "clearly Mr. Rimmer's case is not unheard of. But, your right, Mr. Lister is simply a study in poor organization, and secondhand effects of Muggle progress. Perhaps if we were less out of touch with their realm . . ."

Grunky slammed his desk again. "Let's NOT start that again, MacLaghlan. No, we have to do what we have to do. Since they are both British natives, I suppose Hogwarts is the proper place for them?" He frowned, flipping through the files. Here's a copy of Mr. Rimmer's acceptance letter. I see they haven't changed the design or format too much. I just don't understand how-or why-the other one ended up where he did. He's a-well, you looked at these. Yes, we'll arrange for them to be sent to Hogwarts."

"And the other two?" Antonus asked.

Jack Grunky rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The other three, you mean. Musn't forget the portait. Hmm. Well, we'll arrange for the portrait to be hung at Hogwarts. Magically, of course, since there seems to be some issue with simply moving it. And . . ." He drummed the desk with his fingers. "And . . . let's arrange for the other two to be guests at Hogwarts. We'll get a subtle study of them in. You do it, Antonus! Yes! Go to Hogwarts as a liason, and keep track of things."

Antonus's eyes glazed over with pleasure. "A study? Oh, I'd be delighted. I'll learn so much from this . . ." he babbled enthusiatically, ecstatically.

"Get something in on Hamprowder for once, eh?" laughed Jack. Suddenly he looked far more pleased about the whole situation.


	6. The Doors Opened

After a few more hours of the night drifted past, the inhabitants of the cell found themselves tossing and turning in an unsuccessful attempt to sleep on the hard wooden benches. The austere portrait had also managed a quick snooze, though she woke regularly to check on the jailbirds. Kryten was the only one who actually heard footsteps once again signalling approach, though Cat's head flicked back momentarly. He might have heard but he did not wake.

The guard opened the jail cell with surprising quietness, and the android saw the bespectaled woman quietly cross the room to stand over the tousled-haired young man-Harry. She drew in a deep breath.

"POTTER!" she bellowed, startling the cellmates awake.

Harry himself woke with an incomparable grimace. "Aggh!" he moaned, and grabbed his head. "Shh . . . not so bloody loud." He attempted to roll over and go back to sleep. "Tell Snape I'm ill. Not going to Potions . . ." he drifted off again.

"Tell him yourself," McGonagall replied, her tone crisp and loud. If one didn't know better, they might suspect it was the most possibly offensive tone to use on a boy with a severe hangover. One really might suspect. "I'm sure _Professor_ Snape will also be happy to explain to me exactly why you have decided to miss Transfiguration as well."

"Sod off . . . tell you what?" Harry opened one eye, winced, and struggled to a sitting position. "Oh, no. Oh, shit." He eyed McGonagall with dismay. Harry's memories of the last night were all present, yes, but somehow incomplete. His brain was like an oil painting that hadn't dried, and someone had smeared the canvas. Blurry, colorful, and with meaning, but indefinite all the same. And messy to boot.

McGonagall eyed him with suppressed amusement, but she kept her face stoic, with a hint of fury around the mouth and eyes. "Get up, Mr. Potter. We will discuss your postively disgraceful behavior further. For now, you will attend all scheduled classes, you will not visit Madam Pomfrey, and any student found to give you so much as an _Asperio_, or even an aspirin, for that matter, will certainly regret it. You will find that this part of your punishment may be the most effective bit of all. Your own action's natural consequences will certainly suffice to make you reconsider acting in such a fashion again. And later, we shall discuss other penalties. For now, just to ensure that no one's pity encourages them to alleviate your suffering, fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

Harry stood, acknowledging to himself as he ran for the cell's basin that McGonagall might be right about how much he would suffer naturally. He certainly was in no shape to argue about any of the things she had said. The Transfigurations professor turned away from him as he began to empty the contents of his stomach.

"And you must be the other ones I received notice concerning." She smiled warmly at them. "Do not allow my harsh treatment of Mr. Potter to frighten you. I think you will find Hogwarts to be a pleasant place, and your education most beneficial. As soon as your new schoolmate finishes with his task, we will depart from here and return via Apparition to Hogsmeade, the village neighboring Hogwarts school. I have never supported depriving even the oldest of entering students the full first-year experience, so Hagrid will greet you, the carriages will transport you, and tonight at dinner, you will be sorted in front of the whole school. Meanwhile, I will escort Mr. Potter back to Hogwarts on foot. He has a less than pleasant day ahead of him, yes, but I hope that you will find what you see enjoyable."

Lister stared at the woman. He had grown used to many things beng unexplained, and this certainly left many questions unanswered. He decided to begin with the obvious. "Who the smeg are you?" His manner was far different than Rimmer's when he had inquired the same of Antonus MacLaghlan. "Ma'am," he added, wisely interpreting her position of authority.

She raised an eyebrow. "Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration and head of Gryffindor house . . . but we'll see if that matters to either of you who are to be sorted."

Harry finished with the toilet and stood. "I'm ready," he said, "but I'm not too happy about it. Can't I just stay in jail for now?"

"Very amusing, Mr. Potter, but no, you cannot." She looked back at the Dawrfers. "Are there any questions before we depart? Yes? Keep those in mind, then. I'm sure they will be answered in time. If you will come this way . . ." And with that, Minerva McGonagall led them out of the cell.

Harry felt a twinge of pity for the man beside him. The sharp-toothed non-human-Cat-had not taken kindly to the ride-along Apparation. He didn't watch too closely, as the indelicate state of his own stomach argued against watching another person vomit. Not a good idea, that.


End file.
